


mistress

by ndnickerson



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This honeymoon won't last forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mistress

It's been a long day, on the Mother Confessor's throne. Kahlan rubs at her temples, wincing at the headache that has only just begun to lessen. From her window she can see the Aydindril market, the cluster of cottages and houses, and in the distance, the imposing bulk of the Wizard's Keep.

Her husband has spent more and more time there of late, and when she scans the crowd below, she's looking for his new black attire, bequeathed to him by some long-dead wizard, left waiting for him in the Keep. He is tall, but it's Zedd's height that first draws her gaze. Richard's grandfather is gesticulating wildly, the sleeves of his robes swinging back and forth with his movements.

And then Richard feels her gaze on him, and when he glances up from his grandfather to her she can feel the strength of his raptor gaze on her, even through the distance between them.

The world is still slowly coming apart around them, and this oft-interrupted honeymoon won't last forever. Richard will leave Aydindril soon, and she can't imagine leaving him, being away from him again.

When he comes in the sun is already well down, and her windows are open, the night air cool on her skin. A man, walking of his own free will into the Mother Confessor's bedroom, under his own power. It's still enough to take her breath away, how lucky she is, how blessed she is.

And she dreamed of taking him to this bed for so long.

He sits down at the foot and slowly takes his boots off, and she admires the lean, powerful lines of him as she idly toys with the pendant hanging around her neck. It's a wedding present from Shota, along with her promise that as long as Kahlan wears it, she will not conceive, will not birth something monstrous that will break her heart. He unbuckles his belt carefully and she comes to him, pulling his tunic and shirt off, revealing his broad, muscular chest.

He's still in his pants when he rises and gathers her thin nightgown in his hands, and she's naked beneath, her pale skin tinged with blue in the moonlight. He gazes at her like she's water at the end of a long desert.

"Kahlan."

And this is why the power coiled in her holds no fear for them. She held the mastery of his heart long before she ever touched him with such awful intent. There is no part of him that has ever not been hers, not from the first moment her gaze met his.

She sets her fingers to the laces of his pants as his lips brush her temple, and he strokes her hair back, caresses her scalp under the long silken strands, and she lets out a low moan. She pushes his pants down and he smiles at her, one hand still buried in her hair as he strokes her hip.

"Richard."

She can never have enough of him. She will never have enough of him.

He picks her up easily and she slides her arms around his neck, and when he lays her down she pulls him with her, and his scent surrounds her, undeniably masculine, the tinge of sweat and musk and night. Her legs fall open easily under him, and he lets out a pleased groan, already firm and hot against her.

"We have to go soon, don't we."

He nods and her arousal is singing, simmering under her skin, her headache forgotten. She wraps her legs around his waist and sighs when he kisses her, slowly, and she's aware of every place their bodies touch, every bit of stubble on his cheek, every sweep of his tongue against hers. Her power is tense in her grip, and she needs only relax it...

The hot length of him slips against her slick inner lips and she rolls her hips under him, sighing as he kisses her earlobe, the point of her jaw. The head of his manhood finds that particularly sensitive nub of flesh and she lets her head fall back with a cry, her hair falling around her as she arches.

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs, his breath warm on her flesh, and she slides her arms around him, nails dragging down his back, pressing down against his hips.

She wants him. God, how much she has always wanted him.

"Love," she gasps, "Richard, I love you so much."

"I love you," he murmurs.

She is sensitive, slick with desire for him, and they both groan as he slowly, gently slides into her, kissing her the whole time, her fingers in his hair, hips shifting against him. He thrusts and she tilts her head back, their mouths parting, her eyes sewn shut in pleasure, and she is Mother Confessor, more powerful than any man, mistress of all under her domain—

And powerless to Richard, her love, hers and hers alone, as he rolls over, pulling her with him. She straddles him, sinking down onto him, undulating over him, and he cups her breasts as she tosses her hair back, feels it fall like warm silk against her skin.

She wants to rip off the pendant, fling it across the room, feel his seed spill into her womb, wants to grow heavy with his child. She can feel everything around them working to tear them apart, and she wants a piece of him that she'll never let them take.

The pendant swings with her thrusts as she slides up and down, the length of him gliding hot against the slick clench of her sex, and he tenses under her, as her grip over the power looses, as she whimpers her pleasure when he glances his thumbs over her nipples, as he arches up under her. His hand drifts down her belly and his thumb finds that sensitive nub of flesh between her legs and she cries out, frantic, desperate with need and pleasure as she rides him.

And she tenses as her power uncoils, like a silent thunderclap through the air around them, at the moment of their release. She is glowing when he runs his palms down her back and she leans down to him, her hair falling around them as she kisses him, boneless and spent.

When she pulls back he's caught the pendant in his fist, and he releases it, watching it as it swings between them.

Then his gray eyes meet hers.

What she has with him is already impossible, by everything she knows. One day they'll take the risk, one day he will draw the necklace over her head and take her with nothing between them, no magic, no protection.

He brushes his fingers over her cheek.

"Thank you," she whispers, and there are tears in her eyes.

He tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ear and smiles. "No matter what, I'm yours."

She kisses his cheek, the tips of her nipples brushing his chest. "And I will always be yours."


End file.
